by J. A. Howell
I nodded, took a step closer to her, and slid her hand into mine. She looked down at my hand, pulling her lips into a straight line, as uncertainty registered in her eyes.
“Kieran?”
“Shayne…” I frowned, staring at the floor. Why was it so hard to put what you felt for someone like her into words? It wasn’t complicated or difficult to understand, but we made it complicated. We confused ourselves, fighting it or denying it because maybe the timing wasn’t perfect. Or maybe because we were just scared. Who knew why humans made everything so complicated? I only had a matter of minutes before she was gone once more. No time at all, so best to just say it and hope for the best, I supposed.
“You were saying?” Shayne tilted her head at me when I didn’t speak, a glint of light flickering in her eyes.
“I was saying that I like you, Shayne, and nothing that happened yesterday, or the day before, or any time before will change that.”
She blinked, her eyebrows lifting in surprise, but didn’t say anything.
“I was wrong when I left and ya should know that. I knew it, even as I made my choice, but I can’t take it back. I should have listened ta ya. I know ya’ve got ta go now, and so do I. But maybe when I get back we can start over and give this a real go.”
“Kier—”
I stopped her, not wanting to hear the rejection. Not, at least, until I got everything out. “I know we both said we were just having fun then, but you know as well as I do that was never true. Ya mean more to me than that.”
Doubt lingered in her gaze. Whether she was doubting me or herself I didn’t know. She stepped back, pulling her hand away.
“Now seating zones three and four.” Someone announced over the speakers and she looked down at her ticket.
“I should go. That’s me.” She said, holding up her ticket. I nodded, and stepped out of her way, but wasn’t ready to resign myself to the loss just yet.
“Shayne, wait.” I called after her. She looked up from the flight attendant scanning her ticket and I grabbed her around the waist, kissing before I lost my nerve. Shayne put a hand on my chest but I growled in protest and pressed harder against her lips. I needed to make her see they weren’t just words. I wanted her. The hand resting on my chest curled into the fabric of my shirt and her mouth moved with mine, no longer fighting it.
Behind us, someone let out an annoyed, rattling cough, letting us know we were holding up the line of passengers waiting to board. Hesitantly, I pulled back and pressed my forehead against hers, completely breathless. I had to go now, and so did she. Everything else was up to fate. I cupped her face with one hand, trying to catch my breath.
“Ya don’t need ta answer me now. I know ya’ve got so much else ta deal with…but I’m goin’ ta come back, and when I do, I want ta be with ya.”
“Come on, man! Get the fuck out of the way. I’ve got places to go!” I glared over my shoulder at the stuffy businessman that kept checking his watch, but when I turned back to Shayne she was laughing.
“I really should go now.” She smiled at me, this time a real smile. “I’ll see you later, Kieran.” She hugged me—much to the annoyance of the businessman— then went down the jet bridge, glancing back at me one last time before she disappeared around the corner. I stood there a moment longer, smiling to myself. Even if she didn’t give me an answer, she’d kissed me back. That had to count for something, right?
Someone elbowed me hard in the side, and I spun around, ready to clock whoever it was in the face until I realized it was Liam. He glanced toward the plane then back to me, with a smirk.
“So I suppose I’ll see ya around as well.”
“Yeah.”
“Alright then. Best go catch yer own flight, arsehole.” He clapped me on the shoulder then handed his ticket to the flight attendant.
“Right. Bye, Liam.” I said and headed to my terminal to catch the flight to London.
CHAPTER FORTY
Marks On My Skin
Some days things were still tough. My mother had never really acted like one, but I still mourned. I wasn’t sure if it was for her or for the loss of any possible relationship with her. Growing up, that was all I’d ever wanted from her. She’d ignored me, left me to fend on my own, and never once told me she loved me. Yet I had still loved her.
They’d found her killers quick enough and they were currently behind bars where they belonged. I wanted justice of course, but I couldn’t help but think that, one way or another, her life was bound to come to a tragic end. Once her body was released to me I had her buried in the Midtown Cemetery, a quite, serene resting place. I didn’t have any sort of funeral, but Niall, Liam, and Darren came out to pay their respects.
All three had been there for me after the events in New York. Niall made me laugh when I needed it most, Darren was always there to give me advice, and Liam and I had learned to be friends once again. Whether he’d gotten over any romantic feelings for me, or simply accepted that I didn’t feel the same for him, I didn’t know. Still, I was glad to have him back and that there wasn’t any ill blood between him and Kieran.
In regards to Kieran, I hadn’t heard from him but a few times. He’d sent me post cards from England, each with a picture of something iconically British—a red phone booth, Big ben, that sort of thing— and a simple message saying he hoped I was well. There was never any mention of anything he’d said at the airport, nor was there a mention of when he might be coming back this way. It was fine though. I still had my reservations about Kieran. He said he’d made a mistake, that he never should have gone back with Kendall…but what if things hadn’t gone the way they had with her? Would he still be singing the same tune?
I walked out to my car, trying not to let my thoughts linger on him. I had a long session scheduled that started in about an hour and needed my mind on that instead. I put on some music for the short drive and it helped.
“Mornin’, Shayne.” Liam smiled a little too brightly when I walked in.
“Um, good morning.” I blinked at him, caught off guard.
“I cleaned up most the shop already, so ya can just go prep fer yer session.”
“Oh, thanks.” I said and hung my bag up in its usual place in the office. Liam remained in the hallway watching me and I couldn’t help feeling that he was up to something. “What are you doing?”
He pushed himself off the wall, letting out a laugh. “I’m just standing here. Don’t be silly.”
I narrowed my eyes, studying him for a moment. His grin only widened. “Right. I’m going to set up my station.”
“Ya do that.” He nodded with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and went into the office, leaving me standing there, dubious.
Yeah, he was definitely up to something. I shook it off and went into my room to see a book sitting on my tattoo chair. I glanced back into the hall. “Liam, did you leave a book in here?”
He popped his head out of the office, a confused, but not at all convincing eyebrow raised. “Hmm? What book?”
“The one on my chair.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea what yer talking about.” He said, again with the stupid grin. “Also, yer appointment left a message. They need ta reschedule fer tomorrow.”
I frowned at him. “Why didn’t you check the messages earlier? I could have come in later and slept in.”
He let out a snort, as if he was offended by my question. “I didn’t check them because I was busy cleaning the shop!”
“Okay, fine. I guess I get to sit around and hope for walkins.”
He shrugged and disappeared into the office once more and I grabbed the book off the chair, studying it.
The cover was a girl’s back that was covered in beautiful tattoos.
The title read: Marks On My Skin By K. Donovan
Kieran Donovan.
I looked back toward the hall, scowling. Of course Liam had something to do with this. Still, curiosity got the best of me and I opened the book.
I left ma
rks on your skin, you left marks on my heart. I wrote this for you.
Underneath the dedication was a hand-written note. Simple instructions.
Read. Don’t skip ahead.
I glanced around the room, expecting someone—namely Kieran—to be watching me, but I was completely alone. Hesitantly, I sat down on my tattoo chair, which was already at a comfortable incline, and flipped the page. I had no idea what to expect.
The story opened with a guy-Kellan- talking about a girl named Sara, that he couldn’t get off his mind. A girl with long black hair. She was covered in tattoos. She had bangs, red lips, and a penchant for wearing short skirts and tall boots. I surveyed my own outfit. Well, he had me there.
Intrigued, I continued into the story that bared a very close resemblance to our own. It was all written in the guy’s point of view. Kellan—not unlike Kieran— had a wife that left him, and admittedly had a terrible history of women walking all over him and leaving when they were done with him. But this Sara, this tattooed girl with the red lips, brought out something different in him. She didn’t want nor ask anything of him. He just liked being around her. He felt like himself for the first time. He hadn’t even realized he’d felt like someone else before that.
An hour passed, the door chimed, but I didn’t even bother looking. Whoever walked in, Liam took them into his room and the buzz of his machine followed shortly after. I kept reading. Reading how Kellan felt when he was with Sara, all the new experiences he explored with her. It wasn’t about control, it was about the trust she willingly handed over to him, the way she made him feel.
I found myself smiling as I read about the first time Kellan spanked Sara and the strange tingle of pleasure that ran through him at the sight of her reddened skin. I read about the party Sara took him to, the events that ensued there, and a tingle of pleasure ran through my own body at the memory.
Liam poked his head into the room momentarily but said nothing. I was tempted to flip to the last page to see what he or Kieran were up to, but no. If Kieran had gone through the trouble of writing all this, I’d read what he had to say. I’d follow his orders. For now.
My stomach growled. A few more hours had passed and I was hungry, but I couldn’t stop reading. Sadness seeped through my chest when Kellan left Sara behind, mixing with the anger from the still raw wound. Kellan was an idiot, but even he realized that. He’d betrayed Sara. She’d bared herself, her secrets, and he left. He’d believed his wife and went back, out of duty for the baby. But he couldn’t bare the sight of her and he couldn’t escape the thoughts of Sara. Or the longing for her.
Then I got to the part where he left his wife. Where he realized the type of person she was. At one time he had loved her, and his love for her blinded him to her flaws. But he didn’t love her anymore and finally he saw who she really was, what she really wanted.
The book skipped ahead four months, and Kellan was now on his own and he was happier. Still, thoughts of Sara pulled at his mind daily. He tried to work, to write a new story, but all the words that came out were about her. I read on, knowing exactly where the rest was going. I cringed, remembering that night, remembering the guilt, the shame, the complete loss of control over myself. But that wasn’t the same thing he saw. He saw Sara, alone, trying to be strong, trying not to slip into the void she’d watched her mother slip into so many times. Trying to forget. Trying to forget her mother and trying to forget him.
I like you, Shayne and nothing that happened yesterday, or the day before, or any time before that will change that.
I drew closer to the end, and it switched to Sara. She sat in her room at the tattoo shop, reading a book that Kellan had written for her. The book wouldn’t be printed for sometime, if at all, but he’d gotten a special copy made and bound just for her.
For the first time in several hours I looked up once more, sure that Kieran was watching me. He wasn’t, of course, but it was clear he had much more up his sleeve. Sara finished the book and found a note on the last page, telling her to meet him if she wanted to try again. Kellan would be waiting at a little Italian restaurant. The only one in town that made a decent pizza.
I flipped the page, expecting more, but instead I found another note from Kieran.
I’m not sure how this story ends yet, but I’m hoping you can show me.
It was cool out, but beads of sweat ran down my forehead. I wiped them away and looked down at my phone again. Liam’s text was still on the screen from twenty minutes ago.
:She just left. Didn’t say where she was going.:
I’d left his apartment as soon as I got the text and in a last minute decision, grabbed flowers from the shop around the corner. I glanced down at the small bouquet of tiger lilies and frowned. Maybe the flowers had been a stupid idea. The trashcan outside the restaurant a few feet away tempted me but if she was coming she would be here any minute. I didn’t want her to see me stuffing her flowers in the trash.
Twenty five minutes and there was still no Shayne. Maybe she wasn’t going to show. At the very least, then I would have my answer. I didn’t deserve a second chance, and I knew Shayne never did relationships. Asking for the possibility of both was a long shot. Five more minutes passed and I slumped down into a chair at one of the outside tables. The shop was a fifteen-minute drive at most.
She’s not coming.
Defeated, I dropped the flowers on the table in front of me, debating how long to wait. Another half-hour? Another hour? The prospect of her showing after that was even less likely. Fifteen more minutes passed and I eyed the bouquet on the table with disdain. A mixture of anger and disappointment ached through my chest. I snatched them off the table and strode toward the trashcan, gritting my teeth. “Stupid flowers.”
“They look nice.” A soft voice said behind me. I spun around and Shayne was standing there. I sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her. It was Shayne but not the one I’d seen before. She still had a pair of boots on, but her usual little skirt and t-shirt ensemble was replaced with a gray and black dress that came down in a v-neck with buttons down the front. It hugged her curves and flared out into a full skirt, stopping just above her knees. She tugged self-consciously at a gray cardigan and shifted on her heels. “Were they for me?”
I let out my breath, not even realizing I’d been holding it, and handed her the flowers. “Yeah. I was afraid ya wouldn’t show.”
Shayne smiled and her cheeks flushed. “It took me a little while to get here. I wanted to look nice for our first date.”
I blinked stupidly, then nodded. “Ya look amazing.”
Her smile widened and I kissed her on the lips, unable to resist. Relief, excitement, and a multitude of emotions ran through me. Shayne kissed me back then slowly pulled away, a sweet smile still on her lips.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come back. I can give you a second chance, but I know there’s some things you wanted that I won’t ever be able to give you.”
Her gaze darted downward and the memory of Kendall’s words burned. I had left because of the baby…something she couldn’t have. I slid my fingers under her chin and lifted her lips to mine once more, giving her a slow, lingering kiss.
“I made my choice. I don’t want those things. I just want ya.”
Her lips eased back into a smile. I slid her hand into mine and pulled her toward the restaurant.
“C’mon. Let me buy ya dinner.”
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Breakfast In Bed
Four months later
The smell of cooking pancake batter filled my nostrils as I awoke. I stretched my arms above my head and rolled over, sniffing the delightful scent. In the kitchenette, Kieran hummed to himself with his back to me and I admired his ass in a nice pair of faded low-fitting jeans.
I shifted against the bed and Kieran looked over his shoulder. “Finally awake? Sleep okay?”
I nodded and a grin spread over his lips.
“How many pancakes ya want?”
I held up two f
ingers. He plated two warm pancakes, drenched them in butter and syrup just the way I liked, then placed them on a tray along with a glass of water and sweet tea.
“So, Darren texted me earlier. Wanted ta know if we wanted ta come over tonight. Ya up fer it?”
I nodded again and Kieran’s lips pulled into a mischievous grin. He lifted the tray off the counter and carried it over to the bed, still humming to himself. With a soft kiss on my cheek he placed the tray on the bed next to me and busied himself with cutting up the pancakes. I brought my hands back down into my lap, and pushed my feet against the mattress, sitting up against the pillows. Kieran was turned partially away from me and I watched the muscles in his shoulder shift. I had the urge to reach for him, to feel them move under my fingertips, but I knew better. His pale blue eyes glanced down at my hands and he gave me a knowing smirk.
“Alright love, breakfast is ready.” Kieran pushed my hair off my shoulders and reached around, unbuckling the leather strap and taking the bit gag out of my mouth. Instinctively, I worked my jaw, but it wasn’t too sore.
“Here, rinse out that pretty little mouth.” Kieran held the glass of water to my lips. I drank, swished the water around, then spit it back in the glass. He smiled and brought a napkin to my lips, dabbing them and wiping off leftover lip balm from last night.
“Better?”
“Yes, sir.”
Kieran’s gaze raked over my naked body, from my breasts, down to my wrists and ankles that were bound in leather cuffs. I shifted against the bed, a tendril of awareness running through me at his slow perusal. I arched my back and pushed my breasts out, willing him to touch me. Instead he stabbed a fork into a square of syrup-drenched pancake and lifted it to my lips.
“Open up, love.”
I parted my lips a centimeter and he pushed the fork against my lips, then frowned at me. Syrup dripped onto my bottom lip and I opened my mouth, finally taking a bite with a satisfied smirk.
